Pub Crawl
by Pinky Brown
Summary: Ron and Seamus on a St. Patrick's Day pub crawl. What can possibly go wrong? With real-time chapter updates!
1. Chapter 1: Charing Cross

_A Note on "Biscuits":_

_I know, you're thinking, "Where on earth is she finding the time to write brand new stories when we're still waiting for Chapter 20 of "Biscuits"? Well, in my defence, the vast majority of this was written in early 2010 with the intention of publishing it last St Patrick's Day, but was left unfinished. I'm only finishing it now, because – well... read on._

_Regarding "Biscuits": I knew this was coming, the "Lavender business", and I've been dreading it. Mainly because I've already covered the events of sixth year in great detail in "Six Foot of Ginger Idiot", but also because I knew that I had another 10 chapters of angst and misery to write if I was going to finish the story at the end of sixth year, and 20 if I was going to carry on to the end of the war. It's taken me two years to write the first 19 chapters of this story and frankly, the thought of it taking another two years is not exactly a thrilling prospect. For the last few months I've been trying to complete some of my many unfinished projects, all the while hoping that my "Biscuits" mojo will return. I do want to finish the story, and I do want to take it through until the end of the war. I may have to rethink how I go about getting there, that's all. Shorter chapters (I know; imagine!) will almost certainly be one way to go. Thanks for your patience and I hope very much that normal service will be resumed as soon as possible. _

_A Note on this story:_

_As regular readers will know, all my stories set after the end of 6__th __year disregard the events of Deathly Hallows. However, I have borrowed a couple of very minor incidents from that book, notably the attack on Lavender and the death of Colin Creevey. Everything else (and 90% of Seamus!) is all my own. Also, just because I like to make things harder for myself, this story will have real-time chapter postings. Apart from the first two, because my flatmate was on the phone and the internet connection cut out. Hmm, what can possibly go wrong?_

_Let the mayhem commence!_

_Pinky Brown, 17__th__ March 2011_

* * *

**Pub Crawl**

**Chapter One: Charing Cross**

**March 17th 2000**

**5.47 p.m, The Leaky Cauldron**

Seamus downed the dregs of his pint and slammed the glass purposefully down on the table.

"Right then, are we ready?"

"Yep."

"Got the tube map?"

Ron patted his pocket. "Yep."

"Got enough Muggle money on you?"

"Yeah, Hermione sorted it out for me."

"Got your Travelcard?"

"Yep."

Seamus raised an ironic eyebrow. "Did Hermione sort that out for you too?"

"_No," _retorted Ron, annoyed. "I _am_ capable of doing _some_ things on my own, you know. I'm not a complete moron. It's just the money I can't get my head around."

Seamus chuckled. "Come on, let's synchronise our watches."

"What?"

"Synchronise our watches."

Ron looked blank. "Why?"

"I dunno; that's what they always do in the fillums."

"Seamus, I'm going to be sitting _next_ to you for the next -" He checked his watch and groaned. _"Seven hours!"_

Seamus laughed, and reached for his coat. "Exactly! So we'd better get a move on, hadn't we? Come on, drink up! Only another ten more pubs to go!"

Ron shook his head, downed the last of his pint, and followed Seamus out of the pub.

"I have a horrible feeling I'm going to regret this…"


	2. Chapter 2: Leicester Square

**Chapter Two: Leicester Square**

**6.03 p.m**

"I don't believe it!" exclaimed Seamus in outrage, falling into his seat but miraculously not managing to spill any of his drink on the way. "Fecking barmaid drew a shamrock in my pint, look!"

"Says the man wearing a giant comedy Guinness hat and a _Kiss Me I'm Irish _t-shirt..." grinned Ron, carefully taking his own pint from Seamus's hand.

"Yeah, but a) it's St Pat's night, and b) I actually _am_ Irish! This pub's about as Irish as -" He cast around for a suitable comparison. "That woman's pink cowboy hat!"

They both laughed and then fell into gratified silence for a minute while they savoured the second pint of the evening.

"_Sooo..." _began Seamus, "How come your missus let you out tonight, then?"

"Let me _out?"_

"Yeah. How come you're not at home doing the Hoovering or something?"

"Well... one, because I don't have to ask permission to go out for an evening, because unlike _you_, I don't still live with my _Mum_, and two, what the buggering _fuck_ is Hoovering?"

"So you're telling me Hermione doesn't know you're here?"

"Of course she knows I'm here. I tell her everything."

"_Everything?"_

"Everything."

"What; like how many times you tossed off yesterday, that kind of thing?"

"Well, alright, maybe not _everything_. Pedant."

"So where did you tell her you were going?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't for a second believe you told her you were coming out on the pull with me."

"No, that's right. I didn't tell her that, because _I'm not on the pull_. I'm just out having a few beers with an old mate, that's all."

"A _few_ beers!"

"Alright, more than a few. The point is; she knows exactly where I am."

"So what, she's just sitting at home waiting for the menfolk to come back so she can serve us some coffee and stew, is she?"

"And again, Shay, I think you're confusing her with _your Mum_. She's at some sort of work leaving do."

"What, she's out at the pub too?"

"Yeah, probably."

"Oh, this is priceless! You do know that right this minute some drunken Irishman in a giant comedy Guinness hat is trying to get in her knickers, don't you?"

"Not gonna happen," said Ron gruffly.

Seamus laughed out loud. "What do you _mean_, not gonna happen? I'm telling you it _is_ happening! Come on, big group of girls, all dolled up to the nines and off their heads on Bacardi Breezers... absolute _magnet _for any bloke within about half a mile radius, right? Of _course_ someone's gonna try it on!"

"Yeah, well, even if they did, she'd tell them she's got a boyfriend, wouldn't she?"

"Maybe. And maybe she'd be flattered and let them try, knowing full well she hasn't got to actually follow it through 'cos, as you say, she's got _you_ waitin' for her at home, wearing your frilly apron and with dinner on the table and all that bollocks."

"Seamus…"

"What?"

"Fuck off."

"Touched a nerve there, have I? I bet you totally _have_ got an apron."

"No, I haven't."

"Is there an apron in your kitchen?"

"Well... _yeah_. But it's not mine. It was a present. For Hermione," he added hastily.

"I bet you wear it though."

"Yeah, well _obviously_, if I'm cooking something messy, I wear the apron. It doesn't mean anything. It's only a frigging apron."

"You tell yourself that, mate. It's only an apron. It's only a ring. It's only a mortgage. It's only a pram. It's only a ball and chain. It's only the same woman for the rest of your life until you _die_."

Ron laughed. "And?"

"What do you mean, _'and'? _Doesn't that scare the bejesus out of you?"

A shrug. "Not particularly, no. Not as much as the idea of having to go up to strange women in pubs and be told to 'Fuck off, Ginger' for the rest of my life, anyway."

Seamus shook his head. "Seriously, though, doesn't it freak you out?"

"What?"

"The idea of only ever sleeping with one woman for the rest of your life."

Ron shrugged. "No. It's _Hermione_. I don't _want_ anyone else." He took a long draught of his pint. "I'm a one-man woman."

There was a short silence, then Seamus started laughing. "You're a _what?" _


	3. Chapter 3: Tottenham Court Road

_A note on the story so far: As I'm editing and re-writing the final draft of this in sort-of real time (my stupidest idea ever), a few typos and errors may well sneak in. They will, however, all be corrected tomorrow when I've had some sleep and rested my poor eyes. Hope you are enjoying the story and if you are able to take the time to leave reviews along the way, it will be greatly appreciated. Cheers!_

_Pb x_

* * *

**Chapter Three: Tottenham Court Road**

**7.03 pm**

"I can't believe I've been wearing this t-shirt for _three hours_ and no women have tried to kiss me yet," complained Seamus loudly. He turned to Ron. "Do you think it's the hats?"

"The hats?"

"Yeah. Do you think they're putting the girls off?"

"Nah. Couldn't be that. What girl wouldn't be turned on by the sight of a really, really drunk bloke wearing a twelve inch high furry hat in the shape of a giant pint of Guinness?"

"That girl in the last pub wanted to stroke it!"

Ron spat out his mouthful of beer, and wiped himself down while Seamus fell about laughing.

"Did you let her?"

"Of course I did. It's not every day a woman wants to stroke your hat."

"Did you ask her if she wanted to stroke anything else?"

"Yeah," said Seamus, looking despondent. "But she thought I was joking."

Ron choked on his beer again. "You're a hazard, Seamus. I've spat out more of this than I've drunk."

"Do you think we should lose the hats?"

"No," said Ron, fiercely, "Absolutely not."

"You think they're working, then?"

"No. I don't think they're working at _all. _But as long as I'm wearing this, I'm only hitting my _hat_ every time I go through low doors, not my head like I usually do when I've had a few drinks. Actually, I'm thinking about wearing it permanently. Even in bed."

It was Seamus's turn to choke on his beer. "Ah ha ha ha! I can just imagine Hermione's face if you turned up tonight wearing _that!"_

"What?" deadpanned Ron, "I'm _absolutely _wearing this home. I paid good money for this."

They were both laughing so much now they could barely breathe.

"Hey, I've just had an idea!"

"Well, there's a first time for everything, I suppose..."

"Har har. No, listen, why don't you come and stay sometime? We've got the room. I could take you out on the town, we could hit a few bars… what are you doing next weekend?"

Ron shook his head. "I can't next weekend. We're going to the theatre."

"The _theatre?" _repeated Seamus, incredulously.

"Yeah, with Hermione's parents."

Seamus shot him a look of barely concealed contempt. "Sorry, maybe I didn't hear right. You're going to the _theatre? _With _Hermione's parents?"_

"Yeah, it's for her dad's birthday."

Seamus shook his head in disgust. _"The theatre!" _

Ron laughed. "You make it sound like we're going to tea with the Queen or something. It's only the theatre. I'm quite looking forward to it, actually. I've never been to the theatre before."

"What are you going to see? _Please_ tell me it's not a musical!"

"Dunno," shrugged Ron. "Hermione's mum booked the tickets."

Seamus shook his head again. "Of _course_ she did. You're gonna be married with ten kids before you know it, mate."

"Yeah yeah," said Ron, waving a dismissive hand. "At least I don't still live with my _mum_."

"Hah, listen to you, four months since you swapped one nagging woman for another and you think you've got it made! Listen, I don't pay rent, I get my clothes washed for me, I get brought breakfast in bed -"

"_I _get brought breakfast in bed! And not by my mum, either! By my girlfriend, who then gets into the bed _with_ me! I think that's gotta be worth having to wash my own socks now and then!"

"What, you mean Hermione doesn't wash them _for_ you?" teased Seamus, feigning horror. "What's the point of living with a woman if she doesn't at least do your washing for you?"

"Mate, if you have to ask, then there's no hope for you."

"At least I can bring _girls_ back to the house when I want to."

"Yeah, to your _mum's_ house! That must really bring the ladies flocking! 'Hello, darlin', do you want to come back to my place for a shag, only better keep the noise down in case you wake me mum'?"

"Yeah, that's _exactly_ how I put it," said Seamus, dryly. "Listen, there's nothing wrong with still living at home at twenty, you know. It's perfectly normal. It's not like I'm still gonna be living at home when I'm _thirty..._"

"Says you."

"Feck off. I won't. I'll have my own shag pad, where I can bring girls back whenever I like. 'Course, by then you'll probably have about five kids and won't be getting any at _all_."

"Where do you reckon the kids _come_ from, Seamus? I bet I'll be getting more than you. Hang on... _please_ tell me your mum doesn't bring you breakfast in bed when you've got girls there?"

"Of course she doesn't!" protested Seamus. He started laughing. "She knocks first."

Ron shook his head in disbelief. "See, this is why I moved out in the first place. I just couldn't do it knowing my mum was in the house. There's nothing more guaranteed to ruin the mood than the thought of your mum barging in halfway through with a cup of tea. Mine wouldn't bother to knock, either."

Seamus chuckled. "Yeah, I can just picture that as well. Girl on top, hair flying about, tits bouncing, lots o' screaming and grunting, then yer mam walks in and hands you a cuppa." He affected a high-pitched West Country accent: 'Careful, dear, it's hot!'

Ron snorted Guinness up his nose, and Seamus laughed at him laughing. "Am I close? Is that what it was like? Please tell me that didn't actually happen!"

Ron was laughing so much now he was quite red in the face, and utterly helpless, rolling about on the banquette. "Actually…" he managed to get out, "Not with _my _mum…"

Seamus gaped at him. "Not with _her_ mam? Oh Jesus, that's like all my best dreams rolled into one!"

Ron shoved him. "You've never even _met_ Hermione's mum!"

"No, I know. It doesn't have to be _her_ mam. Any mother and daughter would do. Or sisters. Twins. _Siamese_ twins. Two mouths, imagine the possibilities!"

They were both laughing so much now they were almost weeping.

"You're sick, Seamus."

"I do my best. So come on, tell me about the time her mam walked in on you. I want all the gory details. Was Hermione on top?"

"Shay -" warned Ron.

"Alright, alright, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to..." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "... but you _do_ want to, don't you?"

Ron laughed. "Alright. Well, it was two weeks after we'd moved in together. Saturday afternoon. We hadn't left the house yet. Or got dressed. Or got out of bed. Well... we'd got out of bed, we'd just gone back to it again. Anyway, her Mum was in London for some sort of dentists' conference and decided to pop round with a moving-in present for us."

"What was it?"

"I'm getting to that. Anyway, obviously since this is our own place we haven't bothered to shut the bedroom door."

"Never mind the _bedroom _door, how did she get in through the _front_ door?"

"Hermione gave her a key."

"Your _mother-in-law_ has a key to your flat?"

"Yeah. And she lives sixty miles away and doesn't know how to Apparate. Usually we get a bit more notice."

"Except this time when she decided to pay you a flying visit."

"Exactly. She wanted to surprise us."

"I bet she did that, alright."

"Yes, she did. Anyway, so she arrives on a Saturday afternoon, with her present, and she knocks a few times, but we don't hear her because, well, we're _busy_. So she assumes we're out and comes into the flat, only we don't know about this 'til a couple of hours later when Hermione goes into the front room and I hear this big scream. I rush out to see what's up and find Hermione staring in horror at a giant rug that was most definitely _not_ there two hours beforehand."

"So did you accidentally flash your mother-in-law?" asked Seamus eagerly. "Or was Hermione on top?"

"You're worryingly obsessed with whether Hermione was on top or not."

"Well, was she?"

Ron flushed crimson. "I've no idea," he admitted."We were at it for a couple of hours. She could have come in at any point."

"So when you say the bedroom door was _open_... are we talking just slightly ajar, or wide open so she had a glorious full-frontal view of you shagging her darling daughter?"

"Wide open," mumbled Ron, now so red he looked as though he might burst into flames at any moment.

"Brilliant!" chuckled Seamus. "You must have been mortified!"

"That's not even the worst of it. We were supposed to go round to her parents for Sunday lunch the next day. _Three hours_ I had to sit there opposite her Mum and Dad with all of us pretending nothing had happened. 'Pass the gravy.' 'I'd love some more potatoes" "Yes, we _loved_ the rug you bought us. It was such a wonderful... _surprise_...'"

Seamus was clutching his sides in pain, he was laughing so much. "Ahahaha! Stop, it hurts too much!"

"Oh!" exclaimed Ron suddenly, "The lady in the van!"

Seamus blinked. "What lady?"

"No, that's the title of the play we're going to see. _The Lady In The Van._"

"Sound a-_may_-zing," said Seamus, sarcastically. "What's it about?"

They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"So come on," said Seamus, when he had recovered, lowering his voice confidentially and putting an arm around Ron's shoulder, "You can tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"The deal!"

"What deal?"

"The _deal! _You and Granger!"

"Shay..."

"No, no, I just mean... well, you know... what is it that you can see that nobody else can? 'Cos I can't see it, man, I really can't. Is she a fantastic lay?"

Ron shrugged Seamus's arm off his shoulder. "Why do you always have to push it?"

"Push what? I don't know what you –"

"Yeah, you do. You always have to push it just that one step too far. Why can't you just leave it alone?"

A shrug and a grin. "Because it's _fun?"_

"Is it, though?"

Seamus's smile wavered slightly. "Yeah!" He punched Ron rather too hard in the shoulder. "And also because you're just _so_ easy to wind up..."

Ron couldn't help laughing. "That _is _true," he admitted. "Malfoy was always very good at that. Knowing which buttons to press. Hermione used to tell me to ignore him, but it was easy for _her_ to say. _You're_ much easier to ignore."

Seamus affected outrage. "Thanks!"

"Well, I know you don't really mean it. Malfoy wanted me to punch him so he could get me in trouble. I'm not sure why _you_ do it."

"I _told_ you," said Seamus, "Because it's _fun_."

Ron gave him a glare worthy of Hermione herself. "Arsehole."

"Cockmonkey."

"Muffmuppet."

"Twatweasel."

Ron choked on his drink._ "Twatweasel?"_

They laughed out loud, then Seamus shot his friend a sly look.

_"Is _she a magnificent lay, though?"

Ron didn't answer for a moment, contemplating his pint, then a huge smile spread across his face. "Yes," he said simply.

"Ah, well," nodded Seamus, _"That _I can understand!"

They both laughed.

"Alright," said Seamus, shaking his head in mock-despair, "Do you have to be quite so smug about it?"

"Yes!" laughed Ron, "After all the shit we went through to be together, I reckon I've earned the right to be a _little_ bit smug, don't you? Living with Hermione... it's just fantastic. Honestly, it is. I can't recommend it highly enough. Get yourself a girlfriend, Seamus. It's the best thing _ever_."

Seamus pulled a face. "Listen, just because _you're_ mired in domestic bliss, doesn't mean you have to drag the rest of us down with you."

Ron just laughed. "Yeah, 'cos who wants bliss, right?"

"Exactly", grinned Seamus. "Happiness is overrated, I reckon."

"Absolutely. Who wants sex on tap, anyway?"

"Oh, shut up!" Seamus laughed. "Anyone would think you're the only two people in the world doing it, the way you carry on."

He shot Ron a sly sideways glance. "What's a muffmuppet?"

Ron laughed out loud. "I've no idea; it was just the first thing that came into my head!"

Seamus started laughing too. "Well, I assume it's when you can get your whole hand up her -"

"Excuse me."

They looked up. A young woman was standing there, looking as though she might burst from the effort of not giggling.

"I like your hat," she said to Seamus, shyly. "Can I try it on?"

"You can try it on _any time_, darlin'."

Much to Ron's disgust, the girl giggled. Seamus removed his hat and, with an exaggerated bow, handed it across the table to the girl, who pulled it eagerly onto her head.

"I'm Claire."

"Hello, Claire. I'm Seamus. This is Ron. He isn't Irish, but don't hold that against him."

"Er…" piped up Ron in a panicky voice, "I've actually got a girlfriend, so..."

Seamus shot him a look of the utmost contempt. "You are the worst wingman in the _world_, Weasley."

Ron blinked. "What's a wingman?"

Seamus turned his attention back to the girl. "I'm so sorry, I don't know who this bloke is. He just came and sat down next to me. I've never seen him before in me life."

The girl looked slightly confused, as though she couldn't quite work out if he was joking or not.

"How do I look?" she asked, coyly, with a little twirl to show off the hat.

"Tall," Seamus told her, and she giggled again.

"You might want to keep that on, actually," he went on. "It'll be safer."

"_Safer?"_

"Yeah. So you don't break your skull on my headboard later."

Ron spat a mouthful of Guinness clear across the table and the girl tore off Seamus's hat and hurled it furiously back at him, before storming off.

"_Wanker!"_ she shouted over her shoulder.

Seamus turned to Ron, who was doubled up in laughter, and gave him a 'what can you do?' shrug.

"Honestly, Shay, how you _ever_ manage to get laid with chat-up lines like that is beyond me."

"Oh, they love it," said Seamus, airily. "She's just playing hard to get."

"So hard to get she's _left the pub?"_

Seamus laughed. "Alright, not every woman appreciates my cheeky charm, I grant you. But a lot of them do. Women love a bad boy, everyone knows that. Plus, you know, it makes them picture me on top of them, banging them into the headboard, and if they're imagining it, I'm already halfway there. They're already associating me with sex."

"Or really bad jokes..." said Ron, dryly.

"You should know."

"Har har."

"Anyway, what's the other thing women love apart from a bad boy?"

"Chocolate?"

"No, I meant, what's the other quality in a bloke that women go mad for?"

"A massive cock?"

"No. Well... _yeah_, but obviously I don't have anything to worry about in _that_ department. No, I meant, a sense of humour."

"Oh, right. Yeah, I heard that too. I wish I'd known it when I was at school, though. I never thought it was much of an advantage. Not with Hermione, anyway."

"Well, it is. So, obviously, as I'm a bad boy with a sense of humour _and_ a massive cock, I should be beating them off with a stick."

"You're not a bad boy, Seamus. You live with your Mum."

"Well, obviously I don't _tell_ them that, do I? I try to get invited back to their place. Older women generally prefer that, anyway."

_"Older?" _repeated Ron, aghast. "How much older?"

"Late twenties, thirties," said Seamus, with a shrug and a grin. "They feel safer in their own house, rather than going back with someone who might turn out to be a rapist with a dungeon in his basement. They can kick me out afterwards if they want, too."

"Nice."

"Hey, I don't mind. I mean, I'm not there to _sleep_, am I? I've even been given the cab fare home a couple of times!" he added, gleefully.

Ron frowned. "But you don't _need_ to get cabs… you can Apparate for free…"

"Exactly!" chuckled Seamus. "But I don't tell _them_ that, do I?"

Ron gaped at him, utterly lost for words.

"The younger ones always want to come back to mine, though," went on Seamus, blithely. "Probably because they still live with their parents too. Which I'm quite glad about, 'cos it's a bit off-putting when you know their Dad's asleep in the next room."

"But not when _your Mum _is?"

Seamus merely shrugged. "Her room's on the floor below. She can't hear a thing."

Ron sipped his beer with a frown. "Out of interest, how many women are we talking about here?"

"Well, usually only one at the same time," grinned Seamus, "But I'm open to offers!"

"I mean, _ever_..."

Seamus's face cracked into a broad grin. "How many women have I had sex with, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Are we counting blow jobs?"

Ron made a face. "Thanks for that mental image. No, we're not counting blow jobs. Although I'm starting to wish I hadn't asked..."

Seamus pretended to consider. "Hmm, let's see..."

After ten seconds of watching Seamus counting in his head with increasing disbelief, Ron shook his head.

"Are we talking double figures here?"

"Oh, yeah," said Seamus, with a distinct air of smugness, "_Well_ into double figures."

"More than ten?"

"Yep."

"More than fifteen?"

"Yep."

"Not more than _twenty?"_ exclaimed Ron, incredulously.

Seamus gave a nonchalant little shrug. "I don't know! Maybe. I can't be expected to remember _exactly!"_

"Or maybe you just can't remember because you've _made it up_..."

"Do I detect a hint of _jealousy_, Weasley?"

Ron gave a snort of derisive laughter. "No! No, you really _don't."_

Seamus raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"Alright," demanded Ron, getting rather annoyed now, "When was the last time you got any?"

Seamus considered for a moment, then shrugged. "Not for a while, actually. Not for ages."

"How long is ages?"

"About a month. Valentine's Day, actually."

"That's _over_ a month!"

"Only just!"

"Still over a month, Shay."

"Yeah, alright, what about you, then? When was the last time you... got any bedroom action?"

Ron grinned and glanced ostentatiously at his watch. "Hmm, let's see..."

Seamus's mouth fell open in disbelief. "You _are_ joking!"

"I'm not," said Ron, smugly. "This morning, before work..."

"Oh, God!"

"_Twice."_

"Oh, _God!"_

"Yeah, that's what Hermione said too..."

"Please don't," shuddered Seamus, over Ron's laughter. "I don't want that picture in my head."

"What about you?" asked Ron. "Your hot Valentine. Can you even remember her name?"

"Course I can!" protested Seamus indignantly. "It was Jenny or Jenna or Jemma or something."

Ron shook his head, laughing. "You're _terrible_, Seamus."

"Well, I'm glad I can give you a vicarious thrill," said Seamus dryly. "How _is_ married life these days? Are you wearing slippers around the house yet?"

Ron ignored him. "How come you managed to pull on Valentine's Day, anyway? Surely the only people out are _already_ in couples."

"That's exactly it! So obviously any woman you meet who's out on the town without a bloke on Valentine's Day is absolutely guaranteed to be a) single, and b) absolutely fucking _desperate_ not to end the evening alone."

"That's the most shameless thing I ever heard in my life."

Seamus laughed. "Who cares? It works!"

Ron shook his head in feigned disbelief.

"Well, alright, what did _you_ do on Valentine's Day, then? The usual flowers and chocolates and all that romantic shit, I suppose?"

"Yeah, that's right. Flowers and chocolates and forty-eight solid hours of shagging. I'll take that over trying to chat up drunk women in bars any day."

"Hey, they're not all drunk, you know!"

"Just some of them?"

"Yeah," shrugged Seamus, with a wry grin, "Just most of 'em. You know what your problem is, don't you?"

"No, but I'm sure you're gonna tell me."

"You think what all women want is flowers and romance, but they don't. Some of them - quite a lot of 'em, actually - just want a no-strings shag. Which is where I come in."

"You make it sound like you're doing them a favour!"

"Well, if you've got it..."

Ron rolled his eyes. "So did you get to take her back to your mum's house? Jenny or Jenna or Jemma or something?"

"Feck off. No, I went back to hers. We had to be quiet because her daughter was asleep in the next room. I felt like a child molester. Still -" He brightened. "I did get a really good blow job out of it, so it wasn't a completely wasted evening."

Ron burst out laughing. "See, this is why I love coming out with you, Shay. I hear all about your women, and it makes me more and more grateful that I've got Hermione and don't have to do any of this shit."

"What? Shagging a lot of women? Yeah, it's a real trial."

"Drunk, desperate, _divorced_ women..."

Seamus gave a great dirty cackle. "Sounds like a porn film! _Drunk Desperate Divorcees!_ Drunk Desperate _Dirty_ Divorcees! Meet the Naughty Fortysomethings who want to tutor their son's teenage friends in the ways of _lurve_... heh heh heurgh!"

Ron laughed and shook his head. "Hermione's gonna throw a fit when I tell her about this."

"Don't tell her, then."

"Oh, no, I _always_ tell her."

_"Why?"_

"Well… mainly because when she hears about all the shit you get up to, she's always really, _really _grateful she hasn't got a boyfriend who shags divorcees and gets his cock out in public."

Seamus choked on his beer. "It was _once!_" he protested, laughing. "Jesus, you get your cock out at _one_ party..."

"It was a _funeral!"_

"It was a _wake_; there's a difference. Where I come from, that's a party."

Ron shook his head. "_Twenty_…" he repeated in disbelief. "That's impossible!"

"I can assure you it isn't."

"Well… okay, so how old were you when you first -"

"Seventeen."

Ron looked puzzled. "But you were still at school at seventeen."

"Yeah, I know. _Literally_."

"You had sex at _Hogwarts?"_

"Yep."

"Actually _at_ Hogwarts, on the school premises?"

"Yep."

"Anyone I know?"

Seamus shook his head. "No. So what about you, then?"

"What about me?"

"How long did you two lovebirds wait before... doing the deed?"

"Too fucking long."

"Alright, now I'm curious. How long, a year?"

"Try two and a half."

"No way! You poor bastard! Wow, you must really love her if you waited that long for it."

Ron felt guilt course through him. "It wasn't _just_ her. We agreed."

"Yeah, right!"

"It's true! I mean, obviously I wasn't happy about it, but it seemed like the best thing to do. There was a war on, in case you've forgotten. We were on the run for our _lives_."

"Yeah, and you were a couple of horny teenagers in a cave. Come on, no parents around, all those hormones going crazy, all that fresh air... don't tell me you didn't get up to _anything?"_

"What," scoffed Ron, "With Harry lying three feet away all the time?"

"He could have joined in!"

"Fuck off!"

"Oh, come on! Nothing at _all?"_

"We wanted to wait until the war was over," said Ron, defensively. "Obviously we didn't think it was going to last _two frigging years_…"

Seamus shook his head. "Well, I've got to give it to you, mate, that's a hell of a sacrifice. And certainly not one _I _would have made."

"Obviously," said Ron dryly. "Seriously, Seamus; _twenty?"_

Seamus gave a nonchalant little shrug. "About that, yeah. Of course," he added, airily, "That _is_ over three years..."

"For the first six months of which you were at school and for the rest of the time there was a war on!"

"People don't stop having sex just because there's a war on, you know. Well, apart from _you_, obviously. Look, it's not my fault I get more sex than you. Try not to be bitter."

"What?" spluttered Ron in outrage. "_What?_ No, sorry, you do _not_ get more sex than me. No fucking way."

"Oh, _I'm_ sorry," said Seamus sarcastically, "How many women have you slept with again? _One_, isn't it? Basically, I get more sex than you and you can't handle it. End of story."

"I bet you... the next round that I do."

"What, you can _prove_ it, can you?" retorted Seamus, sceptically.

"Well, look at it like this: all these women you go home with... they're all one-night stands, right?"

A shrug. "Ye-ah..."

"So that means that even if you reckon you've slept with _twenty _women, which I think is _bollocks_ by the way, that's still only twenty times in _total_.

"So?"

"_So..._ me and Hermione did it more than twenty times just in the first _month_ after we moved in together! Probably even in the first _week!"_

Seamus gaped at him, appalled, and Ron laughed and drained the rest of his pint.

"Your round, I think?"


	4. Chapter 4: Goodge Street

**Chapter Four: Goodge Street**

**8.03 pm**

"Same again?"

"No, actually, I think I'll have a Malibu and Coke."

Ron stared at him. "A _what?"_

"I'm _joking_, ya muppet! Of _course_ same again! It's St. Pat's night, for feck's sake! Any Irishman seen drinking anything other than Guinness deserves to be _lynched!" _He shook his head. "Malibu and Coke… I ask you!"

He glanced around the pub with a frown. "It's a bit busy. Shall I see if I can find a seat?"

"Yeah, I'll come and find you. If I can ever get served."

A few minutes later Ron handed Seamus his drink and fell into the seat beside him, wearing an expression of the utmost horror.

"What's up?"

"Some woman just tried to pinch my arse!"

"_Tried_ to?" guffawed Seamus. "You mean you didn't _let_ her?"

"No, she did! She pinched my arse!"

"Which woman?" asked Seamus, craning his head to get a better look.

"_I don't know!"_ wailed Ron, "One of the women in the pink hats; I think they're following us!"

"That's outrageous."

"I know!"

"Yeah, it's outrageous that you should get your arse pinched when you're not gonna do anything about it, and no-one's even _looking_ at my arse."

"Well, walk over there, I guarantee someone will pay it attention."

"Right!" said Seamus purposefully, and he got to his feet, ignoring Ron's horrified protests that he was only joking. "Come on!"

Ron grabbed his arm and pulled him back down again. _"Don't!"_ he pleaded, "They'll eat us alive!"

Seamus raised a suggestive eyebrow. "That's kind of what I was hoping!"

**8.36 pm**

Ron emerged from the toilet and for a confused moment he couldn't see Seamus at all. Their table was now occupied by the pink-hatted women from earlier, all wearing teeny-tiny dresses, plastered in make-up, and shrieking like banshees. For half a second, befuddled by Guinness, he thought he must have got the wrong table, but then he realised that one of the women, the one with an L-plate on her back, a white bridal veil on her head, and flashing red devil horns on top of that, was sitting astride Seamus's lap and furiously snogging him, to the resounding cheers, jeers, and shrieks of her friends.

Rather taken aback and not knowing what to do next, Ron made his way back to the bar, keeping his head down (not so easy when you stand seven foot three in your furry Guinness hat) and trying not to draw attention to himself (again, not so easy...) Before he had even gone ten steps, however, another pink-hatted woman rushed into the pub, hollered _"Limo's here!"_, and Ron was nearly knocked flying in the stampede for the door. Their departure left the bar in eerie silence, and Ron reached up and rubbed his ear, just to make sure he hadn't suddenly gone deaf.

Seamus was sitting there looking simultaneously dazed and rather pleased with himself. Ron sidled onto the banquette beside him and they exchanged stunned looks, then burst out laughing.

"What the fuck just happened?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

They both laughed, and Ron shook his head. "I can't leave you alone for two effing minutes, can I?"

"I didn't have much of a say in it, to be honest. Apparently the bride-to-be wanted a last bit of fun before the wedding. Or, rather her mates wanted her to." He shrugged. "I think I was a bet."

"Nice."

"Well, if you've got it…" grinned Seamus, not a little smugly. "Can I help it if I'm irresistible to women?"

"_Drunk _women, you mean."

"Hey, I'm not fussy. Anyway, we're drunk too. No _sober_ women are going snog us."

"No women are gonna snog _me_, drunk or sober. Not 'til I get home, anyway."

"You almost sound _pleased!"_

"Hmm, let me think, a snog from some random stranger in a pub or a whole night in bed with my girlfriend… yeah, difficult choice… Nice lipstick, by the way."

"What? Ah, feck!" Seamus wiped his mouth hurriedly with his sleeve. "Ah God, it's _pink_ too!"

Ron chuckled. "Suits you."

"Feck off."

"Where's your hat?"

"What?"

"Your hat. Where's your hat?"

Seamus looked around wildly. "I don't believe it! She's nicked me bleedin' hat!"

Ron burst out laughing. "Well, at least you got a snog out of it!"

"True," grinned Seamus. "But I paid five pounds for that hat; it's the most expensive snog I've ever had!"

"_I _paid for it, you mean," retorted Ron. "You still owe me a fiver for it."

"Oh, yeah! Well, in that case, it's the best fiver you ever spent."

Ron affected outrage and they both laughed.

Seamus shook his head, still rather shocked by what had just happened. "I've never had a snog with people cheering me on before."

Ron laughed. "I have!"

"Have you?" asked Seamus, with a frown. "When?"

"Sixth year, first match of the season, my first _kiss_ actually… in front of the entire Gryffindor common room. I'm surprised you don't remember, actually. I think you were one of the cheerers."

Seamus laughed out loud. "That was your _first kiss? _Jesus, you like to make things hard for yourself, don't you?"

"Yeah, well, I didn't have much say in the matter, did I? She just threw herself at me."

"Oh, come on, you were hardly fighting her off!"

"Well... yeah, alright," Ron admitted. "At first, maybe. But then after a few weeks I couldn't get away from her fast enough. Every time she opened her mouth I wanted to pull out my own fingernails just for a bit of light relief."

Seamus took a long draught of his pint and shot Ron a sideways glance.

"She would have had done it if you'd asked, you know."

"I know. I knew it at the time too. What kind of an arsehole would I have been if I'd said yes, though?"

"A _normal _one?"

"Yeah, but come on, surely even _you_ wouldn't shag a girl you didn't even _like?"_

They exchanged glances and laughed. "Okay," conceded Ron, "Maybe _you _would. But _I _wasn't going to. Anyway -" He flushed slightly. "I wanted Hermione to be my first."

Seamus mimed vomiting, and Ron shot him a disdainful look.

"But what I'm trying to say is... even if Lavender wanted to, you know, _do it_, I wasn't remotely ready for it."

"But you could have had _Lavender!"_

"I didn't _want_ Lavender. And she didn't want _me_, either."

"Oh, _come_ on, it was practically on a plate! She told me she basically offered herself to you, and you turned her down."

Ron was temporarily taken aback. "She _told_ you that?"

Seamus shrugged. "Yeah, it came up in conversation once. This was ages afterwards, mind." He punched Ron jokily in the arm. "What's _wrong_ with you, man?"

"Nothing's _wrong _with me, I just wasn't interested."

"Oh, of _course_," said Seamus, scornfully, "It was only _Granger's_ knickers you wanted to get in, wasn't it?"

"She wasn't my type, that's all."

"What, pretty with big tits?" Seamus grinned, "Yeah, I see what you mean. What kind of idiot would want _that?"_

"Oh, shut up."

"So what _is_ your type, then? Flat-chested bookworm?"

Ron sipped his beer carefully. "Do you remember that time in sixth year when I shoved you against a wall and threatened to break your teeth?"

Seamus laughed, a little nervously. "I have a vague recollection of the occasion, yeah."

"Well, I'm a bit bigger now and I haven't got to worry about being expelled."

"Fair enough," grinned Seamus. "I'll keep my mouth shut."

"You do that."

There was a short, slightly tense silence. "And actually," said Ron, "You're wrong. Hermione has a _fantastic _pair of tits. _That you will never get to see."_

Seamus laughed. "Oh, there's a _very_ long list of tits I will never get to see!"

Ron laughed too, despite himself. "With Lavender at the top, I suppose?"

"'Course!" He gave a wistful sigh. "She's got a fantastic pair, Lavender. I've always wondered what it would be like to just stick me head in there and -"

He shook his head rapidly from side to side, like a wet dog shaking water off itself, and Ron choked on his beer.

"I haven't seen them either, if that helps."

Seamus gaped at him. "You haven't? How come? You went out with her for _months_. You two were always wrapped around each other like a pair of octopuses."

He shot Ron a sly sideways glance. "So how far _did_ you get?"

"Not far. Bit of snogging -"

"A _lot_ of snogging, if I remember rightly," Seamus corrected, grinning.

Ron narrowed his eyes at him. "Alright, a _lot_ of snogging. But that's all." He thought for a moment. "I did get my hand in her bra once, if that counts..."

"Yeah, that _counts_," said Seamus, shaking his head in disbelief. "And that's a damn sight further than _I _ever got, so consider yourself lucky."

"… but that's as far as it went. I never _saw_ anything."

"God. That's _terrible_."

Ron couldn't help laughing. "You almost sound offended!"

"I _am!_ She's got the most fantastic tits, and she should be enjoying them. _I _should be enjoying them." He shook his head. "Oh hell, _somebody _should be enjoying them!"

"Give it up, Seamus," grinned Ron. "It's never going to happen."

"I know, I know, I'm wasting my time... And you're right; it's ridiculous to put so much effort into pursuing someone who's clearly not interested. She seems to like the flirting, but that's as far as it's ever going to go."

He shook his head in disbelief. "You know, that was sustaining me all these years, at least once _someone_ got to see the Lavender funbags, even if it wasn't me, but no, they're still tightly wrapped. Didn't you even _try?_"

Ron shrugged. "Yeah, of course, but she kept saying no, and then I realised I wanted to be with Hermione and lost interest. Besides, I knew that if I did anything like that and Hermione found out…"

"Yeah, I see what you mean. Lavender did have an unfortunate habit of telling Hermione about the stuff you got up to, didn't she?"

Ron pulled a face. "Apparently so. Although Hermione only told me about that recently. Lavender would come back after an evening snogging me in a stationery cupboard and loudly tell Parvati all about it so Hermione could hear. It was pretty bad of her, really. She knew how Hermione felt about me."

"Yeah, well, she knew how _you_ felt about Hermione as well, didn't she? It can't have been much fun for her, going out with someone she knew would rather be with someone else."

"Alright, I know I was a crap boyfriend, you don't have to rub it in."

"Listen, you still got a lot further than I ever did, so be grateful."

Ron laughed. "So, basically, you've been trying to get in her knickers since sixth year?"

"Fourth," Seamus corrected, sadly. "We went to the Yule Ball together, remember? Had a little bit of a snog afterwards and copped a quick feel of boob over her dress. My finest hour. I don't think she was very impressed though, 'cos I asked her out the next day and she turned me down flat. Said it was a 'one-off thing'." He brightened. "But you know me, I'm persistent. I was absolutely certain that she really _did _fancy me and was just playing hard to get. When she started fluttering her eyelashes at _you_ every five minutes, I was convinced she only did it for my benefit."

Ron frowned, a dim and distant memory pushing itself to the front of his brain. "But you helped get us together. You told her I fancied blondes!"

Seamus gave a low groan. "Don't remind me. That was my worst plan _ever."_

Ron stared at him, aghast. "That was a _plan?"_

_"_I thought I'd call her bluff. Anyway, I knew you had a major thing for Hermione, so you'd say no, and then she'd be all upset and come crying to me, all grateful for my manly charms, like."

Ron gave a derisive snort. "Well, that backfired spectacularly, didn't it?"

"Not just for me, either. None of us came out of that one very well, did we?"

Ron shook his head. "I really wish you'd just said something at the time."

"I didn't think I needed to, to be honest. I kind of assumed you'd fuck it up within a fortnight, and I could step in and save the day."

"Oh, thanks!"

Seamus grinned. "Well, I was right, wasn't I? You _did _fuck it up. You just took a lot longer about it than I expected, that's all."

"And even then, she _still_ wasn't interested…"

"I know! Gutted! I was sure I was well in there after you'd made such a hash of it." He started laughing. "I thought, 'Well, she's lowered her standards already by going out with you, _surely_ I'm in with a chance _now!'"_

Ron laughed. "Well, even Lavender had to draw the line _some_where!"

"I know!" Seamus exclaimed, in pretend outrage, "I didn't even get a rebound shag!"

They both laughed, then Seamus's grin died on his face.

"And then, of course, the war…"

"Oh, yeah," said Ron, dryly. "Like I could forget."

"No, I meant, what happened to Lavender… the attack…"

Ron felt a sudden stab of guilt, although it had hardly been _his_ fault. "Oh. Yeah."

"I don't think she's let a bloke near her since," said Seamus, soberly. "Fuckin' waste."

They sat in silence for almost a whole minute, staring down into their untouched pints.

"So nothing happened in seventh year?" asked Ron, tentatively. "I mean, you two must have got pretty close, with everything that was going on at the school…"

"Well, yeah," Seamus admitted, "But more as friends than anything. All of us DA'ers who were left got really close that year. We had to. There was no-one else to trust. Me, Lavender, Nev, Susan, Ernie, Terry, Colin…" He shook his head. "Now _that_ was a fuckin' waste..."

He raised his glass to the sky. "Sixteen years old. He was a really good kid, you know?"

Ron clinked his glass against Seamus's. "I know. Ginny talks about him sometimes."

Seamus shook his head. "How did we get from me snogging the bride to talking about the bloody war?" he demanded, incredulously.

Ron laughed, despite himself. "I think you can get from _any_ subject to Lavender in less than three moves, can't you?" he said, knowingly.

Seamus laughed too. "Well, can you blame me? It's been, what, _three_ _years_ since you two split up, and I _still_ haven't got her into bed." He shook his head. "I was hoping I might have worn her down by now."

Ron gave a mirthless laugh. "I don't think it works like that."

"Yeah." He sighed. "I still sort of hope that one day I'll bump into her at a wedding or something when she's really drunk and she'll finally relent and let me take her to bed. You know, for old times' sake."

"As long as it's not her _own _wedding…"

_Pause. _

"Or yours."

"Or mine."

"Pint?"

"You read my mind."


	5. Chapter 5: Warren Street

**Chapter Five: Warren Street**

**9.17 pm**

"Right!" said Seamus, bracingly, "My round, I think. Two pints of the black stuff coming right up!"

Ron groaned. _"_Can't we just get _halves? _I mean, there's no law saying you have to have a _whole_ pint, is there?"

"You can't order a _half_ of Guinness!" hissed Seamus, outraged. "It's _sacrilege! _Guinness comes in a pint glass or you might as well have a fecking orange juice!"

"We shouldn't have started with the Guinness. That was our mistake. No-one can drink eleven pints of Guinness. We should have started with a couple of light beers or something. At this rate we won't even make it beyond the Euston Road."

"I reckon I could drink eleven pints of Guinness."

_"Really?_ C'mon, Shay, that's just ridiculous! What's the most you've ever drunk?"

"Ummm... about seven. Yeah, six or seven. You?"

"About the same. Actually, that's six or seven pints of _anything._ I'm pretty sure the most Guinness I've ever drunk before having to move on to something else is about four."

"Yeah, but that's the trouble with Guinness, isn't it? It doesn't mix with anything. You either drink that or something else. You can't have a vodka and then a Guinness and then a lager. Doesn't work. It's Guinness or nothing."

Ron buried his head in his hands and pretended to sob into them. "Oh, _God! _Can it be nothing? I'm seriously flagging here."

"Oh, come on, it's early yet!"

"Yeah, but I've been at work all day, haven't I?"

Seamus chuckled. "Whereas I didn't get out of bed until two o'clock and spent the afternoon playing _Metal Gear Solid_..."

"Good for you," said Ron dryly. He rubbed his eyes wearily. "Look, how about, instead of trying to do all eleven stations between Charing Cross and Archway, we just do all five stations on this street? I mean, it's basically just one very long road, isn't it? Charing Cross, Leicester Square, Tottenham Court Road, Goodge Street and Warren Street. That's still a decent pub crawl, but we can call it quits before we drink ourselves into a coma. Then we can justify staying here for another hour instead of going out into the cold. Or we could just go back to mine. At least it'll be warm."

"Lightweight."

"Hey, who was it who lived in a _cave_ for the best part of two years?"

Seamus mimed playing a very small violin.

"Oh, shut up."

"You know what we need?"

"_What?"_ said Ron, grumpily.

"A pub that does food. Pies, preferably."

"I think it's a bit late to try lining our stomachs now, Shay. We should have eaten about three pubs ago. That's if they're even still serving. What's the time anyway?"

"Ah... twenty past nine."

"Oh, God! And what time do they stop serving food?"

"Ah... nine."

"Oh, _God!"_

Ron's stomach gave a low growl. "I _really_ need to eat something," he sighed.

"Me too. I know; let's go to Maccy D's!"

Ron looked at him blankly. "Where?"

"Maccy D's. McDonalds. Number One food choice for people too drunk to taste it the world over."

Ron pulled a face. "Hermione would throw a fit if she knew I'd been to McDonalds. I've suggested it a couple of times but she always looks at me like I've suggested we strangle a kitten."

"Well, what Hermione doesn't know won't hurt her, will it? You've got to go to McDonalds at least once in your life, Ron. Muggle teenagers spend half their lives in there. I know I did."

"Yeah, and look how you turned out," said Ron dryly. He shook his head. "Let's just go for a pizza or something."

Seamus gaped at him. "Are you _seriously_ not going to go to McDonalds because you're scared of what Hermione might say?"

Ron screwed up his face in frustration. _"Fine! _Whatever you say! I don't care anymore! I just want to _eat _something!"

"Alright," grinned Seamus, "Keep your hair on. I don't care what we eat either, but it needs to be cheap because I'm unemployed, remember? Unless you're paying, of course…?"

"Fine," said Ron again, shaking his head. "Let's go to McDonalds, then. I'll buy you a burger. And if you ever get a job you can return the favour."

Seamus laughed. "Don't hold your breath!"

"What, so you're just going to sponge off your mum for the rest of your life?" retorted Ron, incredulously. "Yeah, that'll _really_ impress the ladies!"

"Come on, can you imagine me sitting at a bloody desk all day, or working in a burger bar wearing a name tag and one of those stupid little hats? _Seriously?" _

"At least you could afford to buy your own dinner."

Seamus glared at him. "You know, you're halfway into turning into your Dad already: job, girlfriend, flat... you'll be married with ten kids before you know it."

"Would that be so bad?"

"_Ten_ kids?"

"Well, alright, maybe not _ten_. But a couple would be okay. Not _now_, obviously; we've only just moved in together. In ten years or something. But yeah, I _do_ want all that stuff eventually. Marriage and kids and a house and all that. That's what most people want, isn't it?"

"It's not what _I _want."

"I don't think you _know_ what you want."

"No, that's right, I don't. Because I'm twenty years old! Most blokes our age don't have a fucking clue what they want to do with their lives, Ron. You're just a freak."

Ron laughed. "Thanks! Anyway, I don't know what I want to do with my life outside of being with Hermione. I've got this job working for the Quidditch League, and that's fine for now, but I'm not going to do it for the rest of my life. Harry always wanted to be an Auror, and he's doing that. Hermione's on this fast-track programme thing. I'm happy just having a job that I don't have to think about when I leave the office. It's just a job, it's not my life's ambition or anything. But I have to pay the rent somehow, and it's better than cleaning toilets."

"Yeah, see, I don't have to worry about taking some crappy job just because I've got rent to pay. Mam lets me stay there for free, I don't have to get up at stupid o'clock in the morning and dress up like a penguin... I can stay in bed all day if I want to."

"Don't you want your own space, though?"

"Not really. I've got my own room. Besides, Mam works three days a week at the supermarket and two nights in the pub so I have the place to myself a lot of the time anyway. Anyway, you haven't got your own space either; you have to share it with a woman and five thousand books!"

"Yeah," said Ron dryly, "Poor me. Having to share my bed with an actual woman..."

Seamus made a face.

"... who, quite a lot of the time, is actually naked. Yeah, poor me."

He took off his hat and offered it to his friend. "Here you go. You have it."

Seamus was rather taken aback. "You sure?"

"Yeah. I feel like a prick in it, anyway."

"You look like one too."

Ron ignored him. "Anyway, I don't need the extra height like you do."

"Har har," said Seamus, but he took the hat from Ron's hands and jammed it firmly onto his head. "Thanks."

"Well, I know how long it's been for you, mate. Anything I can do to help a friend in need."

Seamus's mouth fell open in outrage. "Listen, I don't need any help with women, thank you very much! And even if I _did_, I certainly wouldn't ask _you_."

"That's fine, 'cos I'm not offering."

"Fine, 'cos I'm not asking!"

"Fine!"

"_Fine!"_

Seamus gave an exaggerated sigh. "_Come_ on. Let's go to McDonald's. I really fancy a Big Mac."

Ron affected confusion. "You really fancy a big cock?"

"Oh, f –"


	6. Chapter 6: Euston

**Chapter Six: Euston**

**10.15 p.m **

"What's this pub called again?"

"Dunno. The Nine Pints?"

Ron giggled into his beer. "We haven't had _that_ many, have we?"

"Dunno. Not counting. How many pubs have we been in now?"

"Five or six?"

"And where are we?"

"Not sure. We started at the Leaky, so if this is the fifth pub… I think we might be in King's Cross!"

_"King's Cross! _Jaysus, you'd think one of us would have recognised King's fecking Cross!"

"Yeah, you would. Maybe it isn't then. Hang on, I'll get the map out."

He pulled the tube map from his pocket and squinted at it. "Which one's the Northern Line again?"

"The black one."

Ron stared at the map for what seemed like hours, while Seamus concentrated on seeing how much Guinness he could drink without pausing for breath.

"Oh, hang on! It looks like there are two lines and King's Cross is on the other one."

"So we're _not_ at King's Cross?"

"Don't think so. Unless we went the wrong way on the train. This must be Euston."

"I still say we should have done the whole Northern Line," muttered Seamus.

"It was _fifty_ stations, Shay. We'd have ended up in hospital if we'd tried to do every stop."

Seamus considered this for a moment. "Well, we could do it in _stages_..."

"Yeah," said Ron dryly. "Great idea. Pickle our livers, _gradually_..."

Seamus laughed. "That reminds me... what do you call a sober Irishman?"

"I've no idea, I've never met one."

"Ha ha. No, come on."

Ron looked blank.

"It's a _joke,_" explained Seamus, rolling his eyes. "Come on, what do you call a sober Irishman? English! Ba-doom!"

Ron shook his head. "That's terrible." He gestured at the glass in front of him. "And clearly not true."

"Alright, how about this one? What do you call an Irishman who steals your drink?"

Ron considered. "I dunno, what do you call an Irishman who steals your drink?"

"Nick McGuinness!"

Ron groaned. "God! Are these all that bad?"

"Nope."

"Good."

"Most of 'em are _worse_. How do yer sink an Irish submarine? Knock on the door!"

"Oh, God, stop! Please stop!"

"Whaddya call an Irish double glazing salesman? Paddy O'Doors!"

Ron frowned. "I don't get it."

"Paddy O'Doors!" Seamus repeated, his grin wavering slightly. "Come _on!"_

Ron shook his head. "Sorry."

"Patio doors. You know, those double-glazed doors that open onto the garden. Well, the patio."

"What's a patio?"

"Muggle thing," sighed Seamus. Something suddenly occurred to him. "Do you know what double-glazing is?"

Ron laughed. "Sorry. I didn't like to say."

Seamus shook his head. "Waste of time..." he sighed.

"Shay... aren't these sort of... well, _racist?"_

"Yeah, they would be if _you_ said 'em. I'm allowed to tell 'em, because I _am _Irish. There's a difference. I've got a million Englishman jokes too, if you want to hear them."

"Are they basically the same as the Irish jokes, only with the word Englishman instead?"

Seamus laughed. "Yeah, pretty much!"

"Then I'll pass." He glanced at his watch. "Shit."

"What time is it?"

"Nearly half ten."

"_Shit!"_

Ron slumped back in his seat and exhaled slowly. "Well, that's it, then. That's the end of the night. No way are we gonna manage another four pubs before closing time."

Seamus downed the rest of his pint hurriedly and started pulling on his coat.

Ron gaped at him. "What's the point? If we're not gonna finish the whole thing, we might as well just stay here."

"Okay," said Seamus, with the air of a man playing his final, desperate hand. "How about this? We switch to shorts. Whiskey, 'cos it has to be Irish. Jameson's, if they have it. You can drink four whiskeys, can't you? One, two, knock it back. Easy!"

"I dunno," said Ron uncertainly. "Is that a good idea? Can you even mix whiskey with Guinness?"

"Yeah. 'Course you can. Trust me, I'm Irish, we do it all the time."

"You were the one telling me that Guinness doesn't mix with _anything_ an hour ago!"

"Alright, Mister... Clever-clogs. Look at this way; it's half past ten. English pubs stop serving at eleven. That means that unless we can find a decent Irish pub with a lock-in, we have to drink four whiskeys in the next _half hour_. And we also have to get the tube between stations and find a pub, so realistically, we just need to find the nearest pub to the exit, order the shortest, strongest drink possible, knock it back in one go, and then move on to the next one. What d'you think?"

"I think..." said Ron slowly, "That it's the worst plan I ever heard in my life._"_


	7. Chapter 7: Camden Town

**Chapter Seven: Camden Town**

**10.47 pm**

"I can't _believe _they wouldn't let us in! It's literally unbeliev- unbelievable!"

"I think your hat broke their dress code," sniggered Ron.

"It's _St Pat's night!"_ exclaimed Seamus, "I've a good mind to complain – no, I've got a better idea... let's go back and throw something through their window!"

"Or we could just stay here," suggested Ron. "I dunno about you, but I wouldn't mind sitting in the same seat for more than half an hour for a change."

"We _can't," _said Seamus stubbornly. "We've still got three pubs to go."

"Seamus... give it up, mate. We've missed a stop. What's the point in carrying on now? Let's just have one more drink and go home."

Seamus slumped back in his seat and sighed, suddenly morose. "Maybe I'll just go round to Lavender's."

"Oh, God. Don't."

"I know, I know…"

"You _can't_, Shay."

"Why not? She made it quite clear that if I was ever in the area…"

"What? You should pop in for a quickie? 'Cos she doesn't get out much anymore and she'll probably be grateful?"

"_No! _Because... I dunno, stop having a go at me!"

"I'm not having a go," said Ron, gently. "I'm just saying, I think it's a really, really bad idea."

"Or maybe it's a really, really _good_ idea..."

Ron shook his head. "No. It isn't. It's late, you're drunk... do you really think she's going to appreciate you turning up like this and trying to get your leg over?"

Seamus shrugged. "She might," he said stubbornly.

"She might, but not this late and not from someone who's off his face and thinks he might score. Come on, you're supposed to be her _friend_, aren't you? Don't do this."

"I'm not just going around there to try and... get my leg over," protested Seamus weakly, "I just thought, you know, since I'm in the area..."

"You're not in the area," Ron pointed out reasonably, "You were in the area about five hours ago, when we were still in the Leaky Cauldron, but now you're a very long way away from the area."

"I'm closer to the area than I would be if I was at my house."

"Yeah," conceded Ron dryly, "that's true. You _are_ closer to the area of Lavender's flat than you would have been if there was a _sea_ between you."

Seamus gave an exaggerated sigh and reached for his pint again. _"Fine!_ I won't go 'round to Lavender's!"

"Good man," grinned Ron. "Right decision."

"Once a prefect, always a prefect," muttered Seamus grouchily. "Spoiling other people's fun…"

"Stopping you from making an idiot of yourself," corrected Ron. "You'll thank me tomorrow morning."

"What, when I wake up cold and hungover on your sofa instead of all warm and shagged out in Lavender's bed? I don't _think_ so!"

"More likely she kicks you out for making a drunken pass at her and you have to sleep on a bench..."

"Ah, she wouldn't kick me out for _that_," said Seamus airily. "She'd just let me kip on her sofa."

"Well, either way, you'll be spending the night on _someone's_ sofa."

"Yeah, but at least at hers I won't have to listen to you and Granger shagging." He gave a theatrical shudder. "The _horror_…"

Ron gave him a good-natured shove. "Listen, there won't be any shagging keeping you awake tonight, I can promise you. Soon as my head hits that pillow I'm gonna be dead to the world until my alarm clock goes off tomorrow morning."

Seamus chuckled. "Sucker! I'm not getting up 'til tomorrow afternoon if I can help it."

"Yeah, you are. If you think I'm leaving you alone in my flat all day, you're severely mistaken."

"What do you think I'm going to _do?" _protested Seamus, affecting outrage.

"I hate to think."

Seamus chuckled, and reached for his pint.

"When was the last time _you_ saw her?"

"Who?"

"Lavender!"

Ron thought back. "Dunno. Not for ages. Sometime last summer, I think."

"Neville's birthday do last July?"

"Fuck, has it really been that long? That was almost a year ago! When was the last time _you _saw her?"

"Saturday."

"Mm," said Ron, distractedly. He remembered Lavender at that party, sitting on her own and staring blankly into space. As usual, she was wearing dark, full length robes with a scarf to hide the scars on her neck, and her hair grown into a long fringe to hide her face as much as possible. She kept her head bowed almost all the time, wouldn't meet anyone's eyes lest she see the shock and revulsion strangers often expressed at her appearance. If he hadn't had a rather tipsy and affectionate Hermione on his lap, he might have gone over to say hello, but then he got distracted, and Hermione had rather coyly suggested they go somewhere else and stuck her tongue in his ear, and he hadn't given Lavender a second's thought from then until now.

"You go 'round there a lot, then?" he asked aloud.

"Depends. Sometimes I don't go round for ages, sometimes I go round there loads in the space of a couple of days. Then she'll tell me she wants to be left alone and throw me out. When she has bad days she doesn't even answer the door." He sighed. "I dunno, it's complicated."

"And have you usually had a few drinks first?"

A shrug. "Sometimes. A few drinks in me and I usually start thinking about her. I mean, it's a waste, isn't it? She was always so full of life and proud of her body, and now she hardly ever goes out and when she does she covers herself up like she's ashamed or something. She shouldn't be covering herself up like that. She was the best-looking girl in school. Everyone fancied her, and she knew it, and she _loved_ it. But she's lost all that confidence now. Now she isn't - now she _thinks _she isn't pretty anymore." He shook his head in disbelief. "I've tried to get her to come out with me loads of times -"

"Come out with you or _go out_ with you?" asked Ron shrewdly.

"Come out. You know, just for a walk or something. Just to get some daylight. Try to show her that people aren't looking at her. Only -"

"They are?"

"Yeah. And it's _horrible_. I want to shout at them and tell them where to go, but I know she won't want me drawing even more attention to her. The furthest we've ever gone is to the end of the street to buy milk."

"Have you thought about Side-Alonging her to somewhere quiet where there's no people around? Somewhere in the country, maybe?"

A wry smile. "Yeah. I don't think she wants to be alone with me."

"Isn't she alone with you when you visit her flat, though?"

"Yeah, but that's different. She feels safe there. Me, I can't wait to leave the bloody place."

"How come?"

Seamus shook his head. "I've spent hours in that flat and I can't stand it. The curtains are drawn, the windows are shut, there's no air, no daylight... I can't breathe in that place. And I just want to get her out of there because it can't be doing her any good, it _can't._ I think when her parents bought her that flat they hoped it would let her be more independent, and it's close to Diagon Alley so everything's on her doorstep, but actually it just gives her a place to hide away from the world. She has the fucking telly on all the time too; it's like this constant stream of inane chatter in the background. I suppose it's for company, but she never turns it off. She's not even watching it half the time. And she reads those godawful magazines. You know the ones; 'Raped by my Dead Brother's Ghost', that kind of thing. She doesn't work, she doesn't go out... She gets food delivered so she never has to leave the house. I mean, we all try, we all go round there and try to cheer her up, get her outside –"

"_We?"_

"The DA. Me, Neville, Ernie, Susan, Terry... all of us who were at school in that last year when you lot were off saving the world."

Ron felt a stab of guilt pierce his chest. "Maybe _I _should go round there..."

"I wouldn't do that, mate."

"Why not?"

"You have to _ask?_ There's a lot of unfinished business between you two. To be honest, the last thing she needs is you coming around talking about how happy you are with your new girlfriend and rubbing it in her face."

"I wouldn't do that!" protested Ron indignantly.

"Not on purpose, maybe, but it'd have the same effect. You're living with Hermione, you're happy, you're working... you've got on with your life. And meanwhile she's stuck in that flat and I don't think she can see any future for herself. I think she's just given up."

He took a long draught of his pint. "It's like, Christmas: I'd been out with a couple of friends a few days before Christmas and I remembered it was exactly six years since we went to the Yule Ball together. Six years since we had our first – well, _only_ – date. And out first and only _snog_, too."

"Was she your first, then?" asked Ron, curiously.

"What, first kiss? No. And before you ask, I know I wasn't hers either. I'm not that naive."

Ron gave a rueful smile. "_I _was. That naive, I mean. And then she told me I was something like the sixth boy she'd kissed and I felt really stupid."

Seamus gave a mirthless laugh. "I think I was number three. See, _that's_ why it's such a tragedy! She could always get any boy she wanted, and now she doesn't even _try_. It's like she thinks no-one will want her anymore!"

"So she doesn't leave the flat at all now?" asked Ron.

Seamus shook his head. "Not since Christmas. That was the last time I saw her outside of her flat, anyway. I took her for a drink in the Leaky Cauldron – well, forced her, really; she didn't want to come. We weren't there more than ten minutes before she wanted to leave again. She thought everyone was looking at her."

He sighed, and rubbed his eyes wearily. "Do you think I should cut my losses?"

Ron considered for a moment. "Nah," he said, decisively, "It's not like you're waiting for her, is it? You're still going out with other girls."

"Hell, yeah!" said Seamus, laughing.

"Well, then, all you're doing is putting it out there. You know, if she changes her mind, you're still interested. It's good, actually. There's no pressure, 'cos she knows if she turns you down, you're not gonna chuck yourself off a cliff or something."

Seamus considered this for a moment. "Yeah, I suppose. Except…" He tailed off, frowning.

"Except what?"

"Well… this is probably quite bad, but I'm worried that maybe I just keep asking out of habit, you know? And because I've wanted to get in her knickers for so long, it's like, automatic. The flirting and that."

"Well, you _are_ a terrible flirt, Shay. Hermione always said you'd flirt with a table, as long as it had nice legs."

"Yeah, but what if she actually said yes, and we, you know, _did it_, and I completely lost interest? Maybe it's just the thrill of the chase for me… I don't want to mess her about... I mean, now that she's… you know, because of her _face... _she might think that was why I… she might think I didn't fancy her anymore… and what if I'm, you know, her _first_, and she expects it to be all, you know…" - he pulled a face - "_Romantic _and shit? I mean, she might have all these expectations about it… she might expect me to want to _marry_ her or something… I'd have to go out with her _forever_, because what kind of bastard _dumps_ someone in her position? It'd be like kicking Bambi. And what if she's only saying yes because she thinks she can't do any better now? She might think I'm her only chance of happiness or something… Oh, _God! _Tell me to shut up, will ya?"

Ron patted him on the arm sympathetically. "Shut up, Seamus."

Seamus pretended to sob into his beer.

"Anyway," said Ron, "She _hasn't_ said yes, so if I were you, I'd stop worrying about it."

"Yeah," sighed Seamus, "You're probably right."

"I _am_ right."

"Well, there's a first time for everything, I suppose..."

"Oh, shut up."

They both laughed.

Ron sipped his beer thoughtfully for a moment and shot a quick sideways glance at his friend. "If I didn't know you any better, Seamus, I'd say it sounds like you're in love with her."

He expected a howl of protest but Seamus only shrugged. "Yeah, I've wondered that myself a couple of times. But honestly, I don't think I am." He appealed to Ron. "How can you tell?"

The question was both so ludicrous and so utterly sincere that Ron bit back the sarcastic retort that immediately came into his head.

"You just _know_. Does she make you smile when you think about her?"

"No, she makes me feel anxious and depressed. Oh, and horny."

"You're probably not in love with her, then," said Ron dryly. "Look; that makes it easier, in a way."

_"Easier?"_

"Well, you've got a lot less to lose. Have you ever thought that maybe she just wants a shag too?"

Seamus gave a short bark of laughter. "Well, if she does, she's had plenty of chances! I've made it pretty clear I'm up for it. She only has to ask."

"It's not so easy for girls, though, is it?"

"Err..." said Seamus dryly, "We're talking about a girl who once kissed _you_ in front of the entire Gryffindor common room, remember?"

Ron flushed. "Yeah, but that was, you know, _before_..."

Seamus nodded. "That's true. Maybe she's ashamed of her body or something and doesn't want me to see it."

"You could suggest doing it with the lights off?"

They exchanged frowns.

"No..."

"_No,"_ agreed Seamus, "She'll think it's because she's ugly and I don't want to look at her. And I do. Christ, I've been wanting to see her naked for years, I'm not gonna be put off by a few scars, am I?"

"Have you told her that?"

"Yeah. I've tried everything." He let out a long sigh. "We're stuck in this rut of me trying to get in her knickers and her turning me down."

"That's not necessarily a _rut_, Shay. It's just her not wanting to sleep with you." He chuckled. "Bizarre though that idea might seem to you..."

"Should I say to her, 'if you ever feel your virginity's become a burden, love, I'm happy to help'?"

"Nice. You could probably phrase it a little better, though."

They both laughed.

"Maybe she thinks I only want to shag her out of sympathy or pity or something, but that's not true. I've _always_ wanted to shag her, even before what happened... happened. I've wanted to get in her knickers since the Yule Ball. I dunno, I don't want to pressure her, but I want her to know she's still attractive. Because she _is_, you know? But then, I don't know if she thinks I'm offering something more than I am. Hell, _I _don't even know what I'm offering! I don't know if I want, you know... a _relationship_. Especially with someone who's agora – agora – _can't go out _and has as many issues as she has. I just want a bit of _fun_, you know? That's why I liked her in the first place; she was always _fun_."

Ron, who remembered Lavender being as much fun as a case of dragon pox, wisely chose not to voice this thought out loud.

"Well... maybe she's not ready for a relationship either, especially after everything she's been through. Maybe she just wants a bit of fun too."

"Yeah, except if I put it like that, it sounds like I'm just trying to get in her knickers. Trying to make out it's all for _her _benefit, when really I just want to get laid."

"Well, you _do_…"

They both laughed.

"Yeah, I do," admitted Seamus. "I suppose it's a challenge, really, as much as anything. I got a little taste at the Yule Ball and I've refused to take no for an answer ever since." He shook his head. "I mean, _surely_ she'll give in eventually!"

"Well," shrugged Ron, reaching for his pint, "If it helps, it took me about five years from the first time I thought about Hermione, ah, you know, _sexually_, until the first time we actually did it. So you're not that far behind really."

"No," said Seamus, dryly, "That doesn't help _at all_."

He slumped dramatically forward over the table and put his arms over his head. "I dunno, maybe I'm just bored and it's something to do."

"Well, you know how to solve that problem, don't you?"

Seamus lifted his head off the table. "How?"

"Get a job."

Seamus slumped back in his chair again and sighed. "You make it sound like the answer to _everything."_

Ron laughed. "Well, it _is! _You're earning money, you can buy your own drinks, your own clothes, get your own place, have girls 'round whenever you want… it's _freedom!"_

"Yeah… just one problem with that, mate."

"You being a lazy bastard?"

Seamus ignored him. "Who the hell's going to give _me _a job?"

"I'm sure you could find _something_..."

"What, with no Muggle qualifications and no NEWTs?"

"Nobody in our year took their NEWTS, Shay. Employers understand that. I haven't got any NEWTs either."

"Yeah, but you _have_ got an Order of the Phoenix medal."

"Yeah," retorted Ron, firing up, "And do you think I took it along to the interview? It's an entry level position working for the Quidditch League, Shay. Medals have got fuck all to do with it."

Seamus looked rather shame-faced. "I know, mate. I know you wouldn't use it to wangle yourself a top job. Sorry. Sorry... it's just... it just makes me so _angry_... Everyone's moved on and they're all acting like the war never happened, and it's not so easy for some of us to forget. I just feel like everyone's forgotten her."

It took Ron several seconds to realise he was talking about Lavender again.

"It's not like that, Shay. It's not that everyone's forgotten. It's just that we lived with it for so long and a lot of us thought we wouldn't survive, but we _have_, and now we just want to get on with our lives and not be thinking about the _war_ every _five fucking minutes!_"

"Don't you and Hermione talk about it anymore?"

"Not if we can help it, no. It's _over_."

"It's _not _over! It's not over for Lavender! It's not over for Colin Creevey's parents! It's not over for -" He stopped and shook his head. "It's alright for you, you've moved on, you're with someone, you've got a life. It's not so easy for some of us, you know. Things happened. Some of us did things, _had_ to do things... things we're not proud of... to _survive_."

"I know," said Ron quietly. "I did – _we_ did too."

"But you don't know what it was like, at school, that last year. You were gone, Dean was gone, Harry was gone... half our friends were gone and we didn't know if they were safe, or even still _alive_... And for those of us left... they knew who we were, the DA... They tried to make examples of us, and every time we came back harder. Me and Neville once worked out how many times we'd had the Cruciatus curse put on us that year."

"How many times?" whispered Ron, although he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Seamus grimaced. "Thirty-nine. Seventeen for me, twenty-two for him. He won," he added, darkly and reached for a much-needed drink.

Ron looked down and saw that Seamus's hand was shaking and that whiskey was sloshing up the side of his glass.

"Where's all this come from, Shay?" he asked, carefully. "You've never mentioned any of this stuff before."

"Oh, I wonder why!" exclaimed Seamus. "Maybe I just didn't want to piss on your happy ending!" He glanced up and caught Ron's eye. "Don't give me that look."

"What look? I wasn't -"

"It's St Pat's night, for fuck's sake! We should be enjoying ourselves! You're right; it's _over_. What's the point in rehashing everything that happened all over again?"

"Shay -"

Seamus shook his head. "Forget it. I'm going for a piss."

**11.24 pm**

Ron glanced at his watch and realised that Seamus had been gone for rather a long time. Once before the Gryffindor boys - Ron, Seamus, Harry, Dean and Neville - had all gone out for a few drinks together about a month after the end of the war. They'd all been pretty drunk, and halfway through the evening Seamus had disappeared to the loo and not come back. He had totally forgotten he had company and gone home. Or rather, got the Knight Bus as far as Holyhead and slept on a bench in the ferry terminal, the International Floo having closed for the night.

Ron chuckled at the memory, then glanced up as the pale figure of his friend approached the table.

"Where have you been? I was about to send out a search party!"

"Toilet," mumbled Seamus.

"I thought that woman who stole your hat had come back for second helpings, you were gone so long!"

"Gnnh."

Ron frowned. "You alright?"

"I am _now_, yeah."

"What d'you mean?

"Uhh... just threw up."

"Oh, dear," said Ron sympathetically. "Guess that's the end of the night, then."

"_Why?"_

Seamus seemed genuinely perplexed, and Ron frowned. "Well... if you've just been sick..."

"No, I'm fine now. Got the poison out, so I can carry on drinking, can't I?"

He gestured at the half-drunk glass of whiskey on the table in front of him. "Is this mine?"

"Yeah, but –"

Ignoring Ron's protests, Seamus knocked it back in one and then shuddered.

"_Christ,_ that's disgusting!"

"_You're_ disgusting," corrected Ron. "In fact, I'm constantly amazed how someone as disgusting as you manages to do so well with women."

Seamus shrugged and laughed. "I told you, I'm not fussy."

"Still…"

"No, I'm _really_ not fussy. Throw enough darts and eventually you'll hit the bullseye. Try it on with _every woman you meet_ and eventually you'll get lucky."

"With fortysomething divorcees…"

"But they're _so _grateful for the attention! I tell them I've just turned twenty and it totally makes their night. They get a story to impress their mates and I get a blow job from someone who _really_ knows what they're doing." He gave a wistful sigh. "It was even better when I was nineteen, though."

"Getting jaded already?" said Ron, ironically.

"Nah, just 'cos you could almost see their eyes light up when I told 'em. _Nineteen_… Ooh, I bet I can teach _him_ a thing or two…"

"And can they?"

Seamus wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. _"Ohhh,_ yeah..." He reached for his coat. "Let's go."

"Oh, thank Merlin!"

"I didn't mean go _home_," Seamus told him, "I meant go to the next pub."

Ron gaped at him. "You're joking!"

"I'm not. I'm sober again and that's not right. Not on St Paddy's Night, anyway. I'll be fine once I've got a bit of fresh air and walked it off."

"In the twenty seconds it takes to walk to the tube station, you mean?"

Seamus started pulling on his coat with grim determination. "How many more pubs have we got to do?"

"Three. Kentish Town, Tufnell Park and Archway. But we don't have to have a drink there, we can just go back to mine instead. It's right near the tube station, so it still counts."

Seamus shook his head. "No, it doesn't. Eleven tube stations, eleven pubs, eleven pints. That was the deal."

"Only because we _happened_ to start in a pub eleven tube stops away from my house, Shay. There's no reason we have to go into every pub, or have a drink in every place. Anyway, we've already missed Mornington Crescent." He frowned. "Are you _sure_ you want to carry on? You look _horrible._"

"Absolutely," said Seamus breezily. "I'm _fine!"_

He pushed open the door and reeled slightly in the sudden fresh air, grabbing onto the wall for support. _"Jesus!"_

"You alright?" asked Ron, concerned.

"Yeah, I think so," said Seamus faintly. "Well, I will be in a few minutes. Can we walk to the next one? I just need to... adjust to the fresh air."

"Yeah," said Ron, wryly, "Fresh air can be a real killer, can't it?"

Seamus managed a weak laugh. "Don't worry, mate. Only three more pubs to go!"

Ron buried his head in his hands and let out a groan. "We're gonna die, aren't we? We're actually gonna die."

"Nah. We're not gonna die. We might end up in Casualty having our stomachs pumped... but we're not actually gonna _die_."

"_Fine!"_ sighed Ron. "Kentish Town it is, then."

"Brilliant," said Seamus, perking up immediately. "There'll be loads of proper Irish pubs there too. Not like that awful plastic paddy place we were in earlier. If I wanted a shamrock in my pint -" He shook his head. "Well, I don't, anyway. A fecking _shamrock! _I ask ya!"

Ron gave an elaborate false cough that sounded rather like "_Guinness hat"_.

Seamus ignored him. "Anyway, if I'm gonna pull anywhere, it's gonna be there."

Ron gaped at him. "Are you _insane?_ You're not gonna pull tonight!"

"Why not?"

"Because... because you've just been sick, for one!"

"And?"

"And you've just drunk your own body weight in Guinness!"

"_And?_ It's St Pat's Night; so will half the women in the pub! They'll be ripe for plucking!"

"They'll also be too drunk to stand up..."

Seamus gave a hollow laugh. "Well, at least they'll be lying down, that's halfway there, isn't it?"


	8. Chapter 8: Kentish Town

**Chapter Eight: Kentish Town**

**11.43 pm**

"This is no good," said Seamus, almost the moment they arrived in the pub. "I'm not gonna pull here. There are far too many actual Irishmen." He appealed to Ron. "Let's go to an English pub; I'll be a novelty!"

"You're not gonna pull anyway, there's no time. We've only got one pub left to do, and you smell of sick."

"Two," Seamus reminded him, ignoring the slight. "Don't forget Archway."

"I was hoping _you_ might have," muttered Ron.

"None of the women in here have a complete set of teeth," observed Seamus.

Ron sniggered. "Surely that's an _advantage!"_

They dissolved into laughter, and Seamus shook his head.

"There's just no _way_ I'm not pulling tonight. I refuse. I'm an Irishman, it's St. Pat's Night... I should at least get a blow job."

"You should put that on your t-shirt," Ron pointed out helpfully, "Instead of _Kiss Me I'm Irish_."

"Yeah! Maybe I will! Suck My Cock, I'm Irish. Shag Me, I'm Irish. Sit on My Face, I'm Irish."

"Oh, yeah, that'd definitely work. I can't think of a woman _alive_ who would turn down that offer."

"What about Hermione? Would she help out an old friend in need?"

"_Errrr_… let me think… _no_."

"Aw, c'mon! Not even for old times' sake?"

Ron shook his head. "Nope."

"What about for money? Hey, have you seen that fillum?"

"No."

"Oh, what's it called?"

"No."

"Indecent Proposal!"

"And again, _no_."

"It's about this couple - Demi Moore and Woody Harrelson - who've got money troubles. You know the kind of thing, they're poor but they love each other, boo hoo hoo. Anyway, this rich billionaire comes along -"

"As opposed to the other kind of billionaire that doesn't have any money?" grinned Ron.

"Exactly. So anyway, this rich billionaire comes along and offers them loads of money to sleep with the wife."

"Why?"

"Eh?"

"Why does he want to sleep with her?"

"I dunno, I suppose he fancies her. That's usually how it works!"

"But surely if he's a billionaire he can get any woman he wants?"

"Maybe he's a lonely billionaire. Maybe he's hideous. I don't know!" He frowned. "Actually, he's not hideous. He's played by Richard Gere. He's a very handsome, very rich billionaire who, for some reason I can't remember, wants to sleep with the wife."

"But that doesn't make any sense _at all! _Did they know each other before? Is she his ex-girlfriend or something?"

"I don't know! Does it matter?"

"Well, yeah! She's not gonna sleep with just _anyone_, is she?"

"Maybe she's a slag."

"_Is_ she a slag?"

"Well… no."

"Then why…?"

"Oh, hang on, I've just remembered! Woody owes loads of money to loan sharks, and if he doesn't pay up by Monday, they're gonna _kill_ him. So they've come to Vegas so he can try one last time to win the money back -"

"Where?"

"Las Vegas. It's a town in America where they have lots of casinos. _Please_ don't tell me you don't know what a _casino_ is."

"Yeah, well, obviously I know what a _casino_ is."

"Been to one?"

"No. Why would I?"

"Curiosity?"

Ron shrugged.

"Right, add that to the list of places Uncle Seamus is gonna take you one day, along with Spearmint Rhino and Chessington World of Adventures. Where was I?"

"What's Spearmint Rhino?"

"Lap-dancing club. Not somewhere your missus would approve of, I don't think."

"I don't think she'd be too happy about you referring to her as my _missus_, either," muttered Ron.

Seamus ignored him. "Anyway, they're at this casino, and they're really desperate, and somehow Richard Gere sees the wife and, I dunno, falls instantly in love with her or some such bollocks, and decides he _must_ have her. You know, 'cos he's got loads of money so he's used to getting whatever he wants."

"Why doesn't he just hire a prostitute?"

"'Cos Demi Moore's really hot. And probably not diseased."

"What does she look like?"

"Demi Moore? Short dark hair. Nice tits. Shaved her head to play a G.I in a fillum."

"A G-_what?"_

"It's not important. The point is, she's really hot, and Richard Gere -" He frowned. "Or is it Robert Redford? Shit, now I can't remember. I _always_ get those two mixed up!"

"Does it matter? I don't know who _either_ of them are! Can't you just say, 'the billionaire'?"

Seamus started to laugh. "No, wait, it _is_ Robert Redford! That _completely_ explains why women aren't throwing themselves at him! He's _ginger!"_

Ron shoved him. "You're a git, Seamus."

"See, now it all makes sense! He can't get a woman so he's had to spend all his time making loads of money instead to, you know, bury the pain, ha ha! So now he's got all this money but he still can't get a woman, 'cos they're all, 'Urgh, no way, I don't do gingers!'

"You're not even funny, Shay."

"So he sees Demi and Woody together, and they're all, like, sickeningly in love and all that, even though Woody's a massive loser and has gambled all their money away on, I dunno, greyhounds or something. And he thinks, 'She must be a really nice woman to put up with that idiot. Maybe I've finally found a woman who would shag me, even though I'm ginger.'"

"Has this story got a point to it, apart from using it as an excuse to take the piss?"

"I'm getting to that. Anyway, so he offers them a million pounds to pay off all their debts, if he can have just one night with Demi."

_"A million pounds?"_

"Yep."

"For _one_ shag?"

"Yep. Well, for one _night_, I dunno if there was a limit on how much shagging there'd be."

"But -"

Seamus sighed. "Look. He's a _billionaire_. He's got more money than he knows what to do with. A million quid's nothing to him. It's like some sort of experiment or something."

"Experiment?"

"Yeah, you know, does money wins over love, that kind of thing. I dunno! He's just evil!"

"I thought you said he was in love with her."

"Oh, I can't fecking remember! Jaysus!"

Ron contemplated the dregs of his pint.

"Well, does it?"

"Does what?"

"Does money win over love?"

"Of course it does, you muppet! They were gonna kill him if he didn't get the money! What was he gonna do? Oh, that's all right, my sweet, you can keep your high moral standards, I'm sure they'll keep you nice and warm at night when you're a _widow!"_

"Yeah, alright. I understand why _she_ did it, but I don't understand why he _let _her."

"Er… they were gonna _kill_ him…? Is that not reason enough for yer?"

"Not really. There must be another solution. Couldn't he borrow the money?"

"It's a _million pounds! _Where's he gonna find a bank that'd lend him a million pounds? How much do you reckon Gringotts would cough up if you'd gambled away your life savings on the gee-gees? Anyway, that's the whole _point_, he's already borrowed the money, and then he lost it all again, so now he's _really_ desperate."

"Desperate enough to basically sell his wife into prostitution?"

"It was only one shag!"

"Yeah, for _money_."

"No, for the money to _save his life_."

Ron shook his head. "I still say a million quid is a lot of money for one shag."

"Not to him! He's a billionaire! And anyway, it's not about the money for him, it's only a million pounds 'cos that's how much the husband owes."

"So who was gonna kill him again?"

"Loan sharks."

"The people who lent him the money in the first place?"

"Yep."

"But surely if they killed him, they'd never get the money back?"

Seamus made a face. "Yeah... I dunno. Maybe it wasn't loan sharks. Some gangsters, anyway." He frowned. "_Was_ it Richard Gere, though?"

"So what happens?"

"Well, she shags him."

"And then what?"

"To be honest, I can't really remember. I watched it on video 'round a mate's house, so I think I might have fallen asleep before the end."

"Does she go off with the billionaire?"

"Uh… don't think so, no."

"Does the husband go mad and kill him?"

"Er…"

"Or himself? Does he kill himself? Or her?"

"Actually, you know what? I can't remember. I only watched it in the first place 'cos me cousin Fergus told me you got to see Demi Moore's tits."

Ron buried his head in his hands and made a frustrated noise. "Seamus?"

"What?"

"You're completely feckin' useless, you know that?"

"Sorry!" laughed Seamus, "I suppose you'll just have to rent the video yerself and see how it ends, that's all."

"Right. Great idea. I can watch it on my _non-existent video playing machine _in my house that _doesn't have electricity_."

They blinked at each other, then Seamus started to laugh.

"_Video playing machine?"_

* * *

_Author's note:_

I have had this _exact _conversation with a friend, only I was the one trying to explain the plot of a film I later realised I had _never actually seen_... and I always get Richard Gere and Robert Redford mixed up too.

Home stretch now, thank God. I might have to prop my eyes open with matchsticks, but I _will_ finish this tonight!

Pb x


	9. Chapter 9: Tufnell Park

**Chapter Nine: Tufnell Park**

**12.20 am**

"Right!" announced Seamus decisively, as they walked into the pub. "I've got a suggestion. Let's get double whiskies now in case we can't find anywhere open at Archway."

"_What?"_ exclaimed Ron. "Are you _joking?_ _Double_ whiskies?"

"Yeah, in case we can't find -"

"I thought you said the whole point of this pub crawl was eleven stations, eleven pubs, eleven pints?"

"Yeah, but we missed out Mornington Crescent, so we're one drink down, aren't we?"

"Exactly, so what's the point in trying to stick to the plan now, anyway? The whole thing's already messed up."

"Yeah, but it wasn't _our_ fault we didn't get a drink at Mornington Crescent."

"It _was_ your fault; it was thanks to your stupid hat they wouldn't let us in! _And_ you told the doorman his face looked like a fat girl's arse!"

Seamus gave a sheepish little laugh. "Well, it did!"

"_Hang_ on - where _is_ your hat?"

Seamus frowned and reached up to check his head. "I thought I was wearing it."

"Well, you're not."

Seamus started laughing. "Must've fallen off!"

Ron shook his head in feigned disbelief. "How the hell did you manage to lose _two_ Guinness hats, Seamus?"

"I didn't lose _two_ hats, I lost _one_ of them. The other one was _stolen_."

"Well, stolen or not, you still owe me a tenner for them."

"Fine, I'll get the next round in, then we'll be even. Two double whiskies should just about equal two Guinness hats, don't you think?"

Ron groaned. "I don't want a double whiskey, Seamus! I just want one more drink, then I'm going home to my bed."

"A double whiskey _is _one drink."

"No, it isn't. It's two drinks."

"It's not two drinks," said Seamus stubbornly, "It's _one_ drink."

_"No; _it's _two_ drinks. That's why it's called a _double_."

"But it's served in the same glass, which makes it one drink. _A _double whisky. _A _pint. _A_ fecking orange juice! _One drink!"_

"Look, if you bought two halves of Guinness and tipped them into the same glass, that would still be two drinks, wouldn't it?"

"No, because no Irishman worth their salt would _ever_ order a _half _of Guinness, and also because two halves are _one drink! _That's why they're called _halves!"_

"But you pay for them separately and they come in separate glasses, which makes them _two_ drinks."

"Exactly, and a double whisky comes in the same glass, so that makes it _one_ drink."

"No -"

_"Yes! _It's basic bloody maths! Two halves equal one! One! And two singles equal - oh."

_"Two!" _shouted Ron triumphantly. "See? _See? _Like you said; it's basic maths!"

"No, but that's right if you order a _pair_ of singles, but not if you order a double, because that's _one bloody drink!"_

"I don't even _want _a double! Anyway, wait a minute, _you_ said we should order a double in case we couldn't find a pub open at Archway… so that means it's supposed to stand for two drinks, not one! Ahahaha!"

Seamus wasn't having it. "Ok, fine, but that doesn't apply to all the other times you order a double, it still makes it one drink. Look, if you ordered a large glass of wine instead of a small glass, that would be still be one drink, wouldn't it? Measures have got nothing to do with it!"

"But that's not a measure, it's just slightly more wine! A double whisky is _two shots _of whisky!"

_"A _double whisky!" shouted Seamus.

"No, a _double _whisky!" retorted Ron. "Two drinks! _Two!"_

Seamus threw up his hands in a gesture of defeat. "Ah, bollocks to yer. Who cares what it's called? Let's just get a bloody drink before the bar closes. Excuse me –"

"We're closed."

Seamus let out a howl of frustration. _"_You're _joking!"_

The barman shrugged. "We're closed. Stopped serving at midnight"

"But... it's St Patrick's night!"

"Yeah, and we usually stop serving at eleven."

"Can I use your loo?" interrupted Ron.

"Yeah, through the back there."

"Cheers."

Ron hurried off and Seamus resumed glaring at the barman.

"But it's only just gone midnight! It's _St Paddy's Day!"_

"Not any more, it isn't."

"This is _shit!"_ exclaimed Seamus, furiously. "In Ireland the pubs would be open 'til at least two!"

"Piss off back there, then," said the barman, cheerfully.

"That's... that's _racist_, that is!"

The barman folded his huge arms across his equally huge chest. "Wanna make an official complaint?"

Seamus let out a long sigh. _"Fine!_ Can I at least have a glass of water, then?"

"Bar's closed."

"Oh, for - I only want a glass of tap water!"

"Sorry mate."

He turned away from Seamus as if to say the subject was closed too.

Seamus glared at his back for a few moments, then lunged across the bar, grabbed the ice bucket, lifted it to his lips and took a gulp of water, and then tipped the slushy, half-melted contents over his head with a triumphant laugh.

Ron emerged from the toilet a few seconds later to find the pub empty and Seamus nowhere in sight. He caught up with him on the pavement outside, shivering in the cold night air.

"Er... why are you wet?"

A shrug. "Tipped the ice bucket over me head."

"Umm... okay. _Why?"_

Another shrug. "I was thirsty."

They looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"Come on," said Ron, shaking his head. He glanced around to check there were no Muggles about, then pulled out his wand and siphoned the freezing water off his friend's clothes.

"Let's go home."


	10. Chapter 10: Archway

**Chapter Ten: Archway**

**12.50 am**

"Oh, _come_ on, let's just go for one last drink! At least we can say we've completed the set."

Ron shook his head, too tired to argue. "I really just want to go home, to be honest."

As they exited the tube station, Seamus's face lit up at the sight of the building opposite.

"_Sweeney's!" _he declared, gleefully. _"_Now that's what I _call_ an Irish pub! And the lights are on, look; I bet they've got a lock-in!"

"They might, but it's a _lock-in_. They're not going to let us in _now_, are they? It's nearly one o'clock in the sodding morning!"

"Oh. Yeah, good point. Well, there must be a corner shop open somewhere. We could get a few cans and carry on back at your place. It's still on the Northern Line, after all."

Ron sighed. "_No_, Seamus. I've got work tomorrow."

"When did _you _get so boring?"

"Sod off!" exclaimed Ron, incredulously. "I've just spent the last _seven hours _drinking with you! Look, come back to ours and I'll make us some tea and toast."

Seamus made a face, as though this was the worst offer he'd ever heard in his life.

"Times like this I wish I lived on your side of the Irish Sea. I'm too drunk to Apparate, the Floo's closed, and I can't get the Knight Bus because it won't cross water."

Ron laughed out loud. "_Cross water? _It's a _sea_, Seamus!"

Seamus ignored him. "I'm hungry again. Let's get a kebab!"

"Umm... okay."

"Have you never had a kebab?" asked Seamus, incredulously.

"Erm... no?"

"Oh, my God, it's a _taste sensation_, I promise you!"

"Mm," said Ron, sounding not entirely convinced. "You said that about the Big Mac as well. What exactly _is_ a kebab, anyway?"

Well, it's… it's… well… it's basically a hot meat sandwich. I can't believe you've never had a kebab! Jesus, Ron, you haven't _lived!"_

"Says the man who's never been abroad," scoffed Ron.

"Where do you think I am _now_, ya eejit?"

_"England _isn't _abroad!"_

"Of course it is! It's over the _sea_, isn't it?"

"So is the Isle of Wight!"

"It's another _country! _Christ, I've spent half my _life _abroad!"

"It's hardly the same thing, though."

"Hark at you, you go on one two-week holiday to Egypt when you're twelve and think you're well-travelled."

"At least they speak a foreign language!"

Seamus launched into a stream of incomprehensible Gaelic, at the end of which he gave Ron a sanctimonious little nod.

_"English _is a foreign language to me, my friend."

Ron gave an exaggerated sigh. "_Go_ on, then."

"What?"

"Translate all that… gobbledygook."

Seamus laughed. "Sure you want to know?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

"Your mother fucks goats," said Seamus promptly.

Ron sighed. "Lovely."

"What about this kebab, then? There's an all-night kebab shop in Kilburn we could go to."

"I'm not going to _Kilburn_ for a _kebab_, Shay."

"Yeah, you're right. Stupid idea. I'm not sure I can remember where it is, anyway.

Ron gaped at him. "What, so we were just gonna wander up and down Kilburn High Road for an hour looking for a kebab shop?"

Seamus gave a cheerful shrug. "It's not on the Northern Line, anyway. Isn't there anywhere around here still open?"

"Probably, but why don't we just go back to mine instead? It's a three minute walk away. We'll have to be quiet, though, 'cos Hermione's probably asleep."

"Oh, yeah, we don't want to wake up the wife, do we?"

"I think the sound of your drunken snoring is more likely to do that."

_"My _drunken snoring?" exclaimed Seamus, rather too loudly. "Listen, I had to put up with _your_ snoring for six bloody years -"

"Bleeding poofs," muttered a man walking past. They stared after him for a moment, stunned into silence, then burst out laughing.

"That's right!" Seamus yelled after him. "We're here and we're queer, so get used to it, baby! You're just jealous 'cos you can't pull the young meat anymore!"

"Shay!" protested Ron, choking on a laugh.

"Oh, yeah, there's nothing better than a nice bit of _cock_ in the morning! You should try it sometime!"

_"Shut up!" _hissed Ron urgently, grabbing Seamus by the arm and attempting to pull him away. He was suddenly very much aware that they were standing on a very busy street and that a lot of people were looking at them rather strangely.

"Shay, for fuck's sake, you're going to get us _killed!"_

Seamus just laughed. "Hey, look, there's a snooker hall! I used to _love _snooker when I was a kid. Steve Davis, Dennis Taylor... I bet you've never played snooker, have you? Let's have a game now; I can teach you!"

"I'm too drunk to learn a new _sport_, Shay. Let's just go back to mine. I'll make some tea, and you can crash on our sofa."

Finally out of options, Seamus let out a long sigh. "Won't your missus mind?"

"No, why would she? Anyway, she knew you'd probably need to stay over." He gave a short laugh. "I mean, it's not like you were ever going to be sober enough to _Apparate_ home, is it?"

"But –"

"Look, let's not stand around here arguing all night. It's cold, I'm tired, and I _really_ need a piss. Are you coming or not?"

Seamus suddenly dived to his left, stuck out his arm and had hailed a bus and jumped on it before Ron had time to react.

"_Seamus!" _he shouted.

Seamus just grinned and waved at him, and fell into the nearest seat.

"_Seamus!" _Ron yelled again. "Oh, for -"

The bus pulled away from the stop, Seamus gave a last cheery wave, and Ron started to laugh.

"You're going the _wrong way._.."

* * *

_Endnote:_

Thanks to everyone who stayed up late with me and my two favourite boys, I hope you had as much fun as we did. If you are still awake, I'd love to know what you thought of the story. And now my bed is calling me...

Pb x

P.s: Although I had no plans whatsoever to write the scene, in my head I knew that Seamus was always going to end up at Lavender's. Ron knows it, Seamus knows it, _everyone_ knows it. And then, as sometimes happens with these niggling little ideas you have, I realised I actually _really_ wanted to know what happened next. And well, if _I _wanted to know... then you would too, right? So at some point there will be a sequel to this, which will also be my first ever non-R&H story. I hope some of you will come with me.


End file.
